


Dirty Paws

by stayingputwouldbeablunder



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Fox Stiles, M/M, Sterek Secret Santa, The Pack, Wolf Derek, as background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayingputwouldbeablunder/pseuds/stayingputwouldbeablunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But now is not the time for worrying about Scott’s inability to fry eggs over easy because the most important person in the kitchen is Derek. Who is in nothing but black boxer briefs. And his eyes are glowing.</p>
<p>Stiles might die before he ever shifts. Oh no, there go his ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hosio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hosio/gifts).



> Written for [hosio](http://hosio.tumblr.com) as part of the Sterek Secret Santa Gift Exchange. Out of her requests, fox!Stiles and wolf!Derek were the two I picked. I hope I did them justice! (This was the first time I had ever written a Teen Wolf AU. ~~I know, right?~~ ) I hope you liked this!
> 
> Two things: Scott was bitten by a rogue alpha when he was ten, right before Stiles’ mom got sick. He and Stiles tried to deal with it themselves and did an okay job for a while, but when they were twelve and naïve and heartbroken after Stiles’ mother passed away, they stumbled into the woods when a werefox was passing through and Stiles was bitten.
> 
> [UPDATE]: oh my god you guys look what hosio [made](http://hosio.tumblr.com/post/73802851549/merry-christmas-hosio) for the fic!! GAH. She's so nice.

Watching Derek shift is one of the most beautiful things Stiles thinks he will ever see. It’s effortless and smooth, the way Derek’s skin ripples and his bones rearrange themselves, entire body transitioning from human to wolf. His coat is jet black, like his human hair, and just as soft to the touch. Stiles likes to make fun of him for how meticulous he is in keeping his coat clean while shifted. He also likes to make sure he dirties it - whether it be with an accidental push into the creek or its muddy bank - whenever the pack wants to play.

The transformation comes like second nature to Derek. He explained it once, on a night he and Stiles were laying on top of his bed in the loft, some movie playing in the background and the betas all piled on the couch downstairs. ‘ _It’s like breathing in warm air when you come in from the cold_ ’ he had said, staring at the ceiling. Stiles tried to imagine it but all he could think about was the way his skin always prickled from a too swift change in air temperature.

It’s been six years now, since the morning Scott’s ‘ _good_ ’ intuition about going into the woods to explore got Stiles accidentally bitten by a werefox. The were had actually been very apologetic about the whole ordeal: she’d been hiding for a week straight from some hunter and Stiles came too close to her den. She’d even run her hand over his shorn hair and told him being a fox was by far better than being a stinky old werewolf. Scott hadn’t appreciated that.

Together they adapted and over time have learned the ins and outs of being weres. There’s no real prejudice in Beacon Hills like there is in some of the other towns around the county; people know who is a shapeshifter and who isn’t, accept it without making a scene. The most scandalous thing that ever happened was when Jackson Whittemore, who had always boasted about having wolf in his blood, shifted into a gigantic lizard in the middle of the lacrosse field. He left after that and everyone believed the premise that his parents shipped him off to London. All Stiles knows is that is when Lydia started acknowledging him and now they are almost as close of friends as he and Scott are.

When Derek came to Beacon Hills a year ago it was because his psychotic uncle murdered his sister and then offed himself. Derek had shown up at the police station a week later to collect her death certificate from the Sheriff at the same time Stiles was stuffing his mouth with curly fries. When Derek had stepped into the Sheriff’s office, all chiseled jaw and leather jacket and ridiculous muscles, Stiles was helpless to stare. And then Derek’s eyes had flickered red at him and Stiles accidentally shifted his ears.

To this day, his father has not let him live that down. He still brings it up when he feels like ribbing Stiles because after he was first bitten, his ears were the only thing that would shift when he was scared or embarrassed. At least Scott got glowing eyes _and then_ claws and fangs; he could look like a badass and adorable puppy all at the same time. (Well, there were those few months right after Scott became a werewolf where his eyebrows would disappear when he partially shifted but they came back eventually and Scott cried because he was so happy.)

All Stiles had were his stupid orange and black tipped ears on top of his head. Scott didn’t tell him at first, when they would appear, and Stiles couldn’t feel the shift. It was only after Lydia walked past him one day in a short dress and long cardigan that he learned. ‘ _Nice ears, Stilinski_ ’ she had said with a smirk. Stiles flinched and pulled his hood over his head as Scott laughed into his arms.

Maybe that’s the difference though. Derek has always been a werewolf, was born into a family - _a pack, Stiles_ \- where being shifted was normal. It’s second nature to Derek because that’s _all_ he knows. But for Stiles and the betas, even for the humans, that is just not the case. 

Stiles learned in the first few weeks after Derek came to Beacon Hills that he had been an alpha even before Laura’s death, just one with only his younger sister Cora as pack. So Derek did what he thought would replace that loss of family, offered the bite to the first three kids he saw suffering, and transformed them into leather wearing, sharp tongued betas with snarky attitudes. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac fit in wonderfully with Cora.

It’s only in the past few months that Scott, Stiles, Allison, and Lydia have joined their pack. Derek had originally tried to recruit Scott only to come out of every conversation having further pissed the teenager off; it took a nasty brawl as wolves to settle their differences. Scott agreed to join only if _his_ pack could as well and Derek agreed, albeit reluctantly, to take in not only two humans, one a hunter at that, but a fox as well.

Stiles can remember what his father had said the night of his first pack meeting, sitting in the kitchen nursing a tumbler of whiskey over a table full of crime scene photos. ‘ _Hale either accepts that you are the way you are and lets you run or you and Scott get out. I still don’t get all the pack dynamics of being weres, son, but I am damn proud of how you’ve handled it. Your mother would be too. Now go, I don’t want you to be late. Just call if you need a ride, okay?_ ’

If Stiles cried a bit after that, that’s between himself and the Sheriff.

One thing about hanging about werewolves though, Stiles has realized, is their general lack of personal boundaries. He and Scott have always been close, tactile in a way that resembles lifelong friendship. But the betas? They scent mark one another like it’s going out of style, do the same to Stiles and the humans as well. As wolves, they’re even worse. During runs, mutual grooming has become a _thing_ , a thing Stiles still isn’t totally on board with. Except with Derek. Because, well, it’s _Derek_.

Prior to runs, everyone just strips down. The first night, Stiles had flailed himself into a wall and then hid behind Lydia because he wasn’t expecting it; Scott had shifted in front of him before but usually it was announced or happened on accident _and_ when he was wearing clothing. Allison and Lydia had both stared at the pack appreciatively, grinning to themselves.

Derek was the last to shift that night, telling Stiles to hurry or they would leave without him. Then he had turned around and Stiles’ eyes focused on the black triskele before it disappeared beneath a thick fur coat. Even then, when Derek had been comfortable enough around him to shift without regards to being naked, Stiles couldn’t let him watch, couldn’t shift when the alpha was in the room.

Derek is gorgeous and handles the change with ease, as does Cora. Scott, even with a couple hard years in the beginning, is graceful. The betas are still a little jerky sometimes but Stiles thinks that has more to do with their excitement rather than nerves: they seem happier and more carefree once they have paws instead of feet.

It’s not that Stiles dislikes the fact he’s a werefox. Sure, it hadn’t been his plan to get bitten, but it happened, he adapted, so is life. It’s more that the process of shifting has always been intimate to him. Lydia thinks he’s so self-conscious because he had no control over his ears when he was younger. To this day, she is the only one who Stiles has ever allowed to watch the entire process.

And now Derek will become the second.

\- - -

The pack has already dispersed out into the Preserve, Allison and Lydia trailing behind them, bundled in thick coats and hats. It’s the first full moon of the year, the Wolf Moon, and they are celebrating because they are secretly a huge group of dorks. Actually, they celebrate every full moon the same way: with a run, late night dinner at the newly renovated Hale house, and breakfast in the morning cooked by whoever is next in the rotation.

Scott has breakfast duties tomorrow and Stiles does not feel a tad sorry for his bestie. Maybe he should, because he had that job last month. But now is not the time for worrying about Scott’s inability to fry eggs over easy because the most important person in the kitchen is Derek. Who is in nothing but black boxer briefs. And his eyes are glowing.

Stiles might die before he ever shifts. Oh no, there go his ears.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns, corner of his mouth curling up.

Derek just smirks, leaning back against the counter, tips of his canines peeking out between his lips. Stiles feels his ears flick forward then flatten against his hair. Derek chuckles once and Stiles bares his teeth. At that, the alpha pushes off the counter to crowd Stiles against the table, eyes dimming to a dull scarlet.

“You know, your alpha powers don’t exactly work on me.” Derek’s fingers skirt along his sides and Stiles shivers. “I may be pack but foxes don’t exactly take orders from wolves.”

“You didn’t seem to mind me telling you to stay behind when I sent the betas off with Allison and Lydia earlier.” Derek mouths at the side of Stiles’ neck lightly, beard making the skin prickle into goosebumps. “Nor did you mind it last week when I pinned you down in my bed and-“

Stiles covers Derek’s mouth with his hand. He can feel his face flush red with the memory and for the hundredth time this month is thankful his father isn’t a were. It’s bad enough Scott can smell Derek on him a day later: he complains for hours until Stiles showers and drowns the scent out with soap. Stiles likes to quip back that smelling Scott after a date with Allison isn’t a walk in the park either; foxes may not have as heightened olfactory senses as wolves but there is only so much about his friends that he wants to know.

“We should go soon. Your betas are going to get restless.”

Derek nods, eyes flicking towards the window above the sink. Stiles can’t see them - they’re probably a mile out now, deep in the forest - but he knows the expression Derek is wearing well. He’s focusing his hearing, seeking out the voices and heartbeats of their pack. Stiles could focus his hearing as well but doesn’t. His ears rotate forward and he pushes Derek back a few steps. 

“You don’t have to let me see if you’re not ready, Stiles,” Derek says out of the blue. His eyes are hazel again and Stiles realizes Derek is listening to his heartbeat. “I can go wait in the other room.”

Stiles shakes his head, scratching at his neck. “It’s fine, just give me a minute. Lydia’s the only who has watched and that was because she wanted to document it for her bestiary. I’ve never seen her take that many notes that quickly. She wrote five pages. Five pages on thirty seconds. I don’t even know how.”

“It’s Lydia. She sat Isaac down the other day and asked him about his anchor for two hours.”

“What’d he say?”

Derek rolls his eyes, eyebrows raising with the motion. “You get one guess.”

“I’ll take geniuses who speak archaic Latin for eight hundred, Alex.” Stiles grins, trying to focus on anything but shifting.

“She didn’t even blink,” Derek says with a throaty laugh, stepping back to lean against the counter again. “I thought Isaac was going to cry.”

“Aw, poor little angel.”

“Angel my ass.”

Stiles smiles as Derek explains several reasons why Isaac is _not_ an angel. He can feel his skin tingling, the need to shift creeping closer to the surface. Derek keeps talking and Stiles knows it’s only to keep him calm. 

“Der,” he says and Derek goes quiet. “Don’t laugh.”

The shift always starts with his arms first, like his body knows shifting his feet first would only end up with him sprawled across the floor. The skin around his core goes tight with the sensation of shrinking down, dense red coat growing out. Next it’s his face, nose elongating into a snout and ears growing slightly larger. Last are his legs then tail, bushy and thick, and Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever gain complete control of its movements when he’s fully shifted.

Derek is watching him intently, like this will be the only time he will ever be allowed to witness Stiles’ shift and he needs to document it for history. Stiles steps out of his boxers, body far too small for them now, and pads over to Derek’s feet. The alpha picks him up behind his front legs, holding him against his chest. If it was anyone else other than his father or Derek, Stiles would take the gesture as condescending because foxes are not pets to be domesticated. 

Except for that group that was [experimented](http://155.97.32.9/~bbenham/2510%20Spring%2009/Behavior%20Genetics/Farm-Fox%20Experiment.pdf) with to see if they could be. After forty years and multiple generations of breeding individuals with the most docile personalities, scientists managed to domesticate their foxes. Altered morphology and disposition aside, it was actually a pretty solid study on how genetics can influence behavior. It’s -

“You have very pointy teeth this close up.” 

Derek has Stiles cradled to his chest, looking down at him with his unfair heterochromic eyes. Stiles nuzzles at his chin with the tip of his nose, paws pressed against Derek’s neck. The alpha rumbles with a sound Stiles thinks is equivalent to a purr and at this proximity, he can smell the delight in Derek’s scent. Best then to disrupt it.

Stiles licks a long line up Derek’s jaw and across his temple, leaving his mouth open when he’s done. Derek’s eyes flicker red before he wipes at his face with the back of his hand. Stiles huffs repeatedly and shifts back to being human, laughing when he’s able to. Derek just glares and presses his fingers, nails slightly elongated, into Stiles’ thighs.

“Don’t be like that, Der bear. You _always_ want to groom me when I shift. Last full moon you almost bit Erica because she licked my face.”

“She was trying to scent mark you,” Derek replies matter-of-factly. 

“I’m a big werefox, I think I am capable of deciding who can scent mark me or not.”

Derek chuffs, sound so similar to the one he makes when he’s a wolf, and stares out the window, a sad attempt at hiding the light flush in his cheeks. Stiles tightens his grip around the alpha’s shoulders, not caring that he’s completely naked while Derek’s still partially clothed. He takes his chances, leaning forward to steal a kiss before Derek drops him. He makes the mistake of closing his eyes and next thing he knows, his ass is throbbing from landing on the floor.

“Dude, warning. You’re supposed to give me warning.” Derek, wholly wolf Derek, tilts his head to the side and huffs once before putting a paw on Stiles’ knee. “Yeah, yeah, we need to go.”

Stiles sighs before shifting, Derek sitting patiently as his tail glides across the hardwood floor. When he’s done, he stretches his front legs, back end high in the air as his tail curls forward. Derek chuffs before pushing at his snout, _don’t dawdle_ in wolf speak. Stiles sets his teeth on the edge of Derek’s jaw, dragging his mouth along the dark fur to scent mark him. 

So they are both possessive shits, sue him.

When Stiles is pleased with his scent marking, alternatively known as drooling all over his boyfriend and alpha of their pack, he begins trotting towards the door. There’s something to be said about the fact the man actually installed a _doggy door_ but those jokes are best saved for when Stiles is human. He presses through, Derek right behind him, and the two break into a run the moment their paws hit grass. Off in the distance someone howls, Isaac, Stiles thinks, and he lets out a whine. Derek howls back as well and Stiles can hear the happy chattering from the pack in return.

**Author's Note:**

> I do plan on writing a companion piece which mostly covers what happened prior to this story. Trying to fit the AU I built in my head into ~2500 words was hard and I _know_ portions of this feel rushed. No schedule set for when I will actually get around to writing it though. I have about five wips in progress and right now my priorities are my ' _now we spin_ ' piece and a long Sterek AU.
> 
> Title comes from a [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgn8Eoh9aSY) of the same name by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> As always, I'm on [tumblah](http://stayingputwouldbeablunder.tumblr.com) and will more than likely be crying about 3b and Tyler Hoechlin in the near future.


End file.
